Chapter 2

The morning sun peeked over the hills, spilling golden light across the dewy grass of Forgotten Valley. Birds trilled from the treetops, the air filled with their bright notes, while a soft mist clung stubbornly to the fields, shimmering as though the earth itself was quietly breathing in anticipation. Today was the day—Sunny's first official morning as a rancher.

Inside the small farmhouse, she leaned toward the mirror, braiding her brunette hair with practiced fingers, weaving soft ribbons of brown and pink until they rested neatly against her shoulders. She splashed a palmful of cold water onto her face, gasped at the shock, then laughed at herself. A quick pat to her cheeks, a determined nod, and she straightened.

"Okay," she whispered to her reflection. "You've got this."

With her rucksack slung over her shoulder, she stepped outside and let the morning settle around her. She paused at the edge of the pasture, sleeves rolled up, gloved hands firm on her hips. Her orange-and-white shirt was already speckled with flecks of dirt, her boots damp from the wet grass glistening beneath the sun. The cool air puffed with each excited breath she took, but her eyes sparkled—eager, bright, and unafraid.

"All right, Sunny," she said aloud, grinning at the wide world in front of her. "Let's do this."

Her first stop was the barn. The old wooden building stood proudly near the pasture, worn by years yet still sturdy, like an old guardian of the valley. Inside, warmth wrapped around her. Dust danced lazily in shafts of sunlight, and the single, steady heartbeat of ranch life breathed out in the scent of hay and earth.

A brown heifer blinked sleepily from her stall, gentle eyes shining with quiet curiosity.

"Good morning, girl," Sunny greeted cheerfully, stepping in with a bucket of feed. "Ready for breakfast?"

The cow answered with a soft, contented moo, lowering her head to eat. Sunny brushed her gently, long and patient strokes smoothing over her warm coat. The simple rhythm soothed her nerves and rooted her heart deeper into this life that was now hers.

Movement at the barn window caught her eye. Takakura stood outside, arms folded, just watching. His white tank top and worn cargo pants were already dusted by work, his broad frame relaxed against the doorframe. His face, carved by weather and years, was unreadable—but his gaze stayed steady on her.

Sunny smirked. "You spying on me, Uncle Taka?"

"Hmph." He stepped inside, boots thudding against the wood. "Just making sure you don't trip over your own boots."

"Haven't fallen yet," she shot back.

He studied her hands, the cow, the atmosphere between them. Then, with a short nod, approval flickered across his usually stern features.

"You've got a steady hand," he said. "That cow trusts you already."

Sunny beamed. "Maybe I'm a natural."

"Don't push your luck," he grumbled, though his voice carried a hint of pride he didn't bother to hide.

Once finished in the barn, Sunny headed to the fields beside the house. The land had slept for years, yet the soil still held promise, rich and dark beneath the surface. With a hoe in hand, she began carving rows into the earth, placing each seed with care—Vesta's gift from the day before. Tomatoes. Turnips. Potatoes. The beginning of something real.

Work was hard. Sweat dotted her brow despite the lingering cool of morning, dirt clung to her gloves, and her muscles burned in ways she hadn't expected. But instead of discouragement, warmth bloomed in her chest. Every time she paused to look over her work, pride tugged a smile onto her face. It wasn't much yet… but it was hers.

Later, she moved to the pasture, slicing through tall grass with a small sickle. The motion became a steady rhythm, grounding, almost peaceful. She didn't notice how much time had passed until Takakura appeared again, a cold bottle of water in hand.

"You're making good time," he said, offering it.

She took it gratefully, breathless but glowing. "Thanks. This is… a lot harder than I thought." She laughed softly, eyes bright. "But I kinda love it."

Takakura looked at her long and thoughtfully, as though truly seeing her for the first time. Finally, he nodded—a slow, certain gesture.

"You're your father's daughter, all right," he said.

Sunny paused, warmth blooming deep in her chest. The valley breeze brushed gently past them, as if even the land agreed. Somewhere in the distance, a new day waited—full of work, full of challenge, and full of hope. And Sunny was ready for it.

By midday, the fields were neatly planted, the barn swept clean, and the cow was well-fed and freshly brushed. She was was dozing in the shade, letting out the occasional contented sigh. The pasture grass had been trimmed to a soft, tidy swath, and the tools were lined up with care beneath the old shed's overhang. Sunny stood at the edge of her ranch, hands on her hips, her shirt clinging to her back with sweat and her jeans stained with dirt. Stray strands of her brown hair clung to her flushed face, and dust coated her gloves and boots. Still, her eyes sparkled beneath the afternoon sun.

She was exhausted, sore, and covered in grime—but a smile tugged at her lips that she couldn't hide. This was her life now. Her new beginning. And she was ready for it.

From the barn, Takakura emerged, wiping his hands on a rag as he watched her with a look that fell somewhere between pride and mild amusement. "You've earned yourself a treat," he said, voice gruff but kind. "Why don't you stop by the Bluebird Café? Molly always has something sweet. Perfect reward after a hard day's work."

Sunny's stomach gave a very vocal growl, and she laughed. "You read my mind, Uncle Taka."

Dusting off her jeans—not that it made much difference—she set off down the dirt path, her footsteps light despite the ache in her muscles. As she neared the village square, the scent of fresh coffee and warm sugar drifted through the air like an invisible rope, tugging her toward the café.

The bell above the Bluebird Café's door jingled softly as she stepped inside, brushing a damp lock of hair from her cheek. The change in atmosphere was instant—cooler, shaded, filled with the cozy murmur of conversation and the clinking of cups and plates. The air was rich with the aroma of brewed coffee, flaky pastries, and something sweetly citrus baking in the back.

Her stomach growled again, louder this time. "Smells like heaven," she muttered, placing a hand over her belly.

The café was cozy, filled with warm wood and soft lighting. Local villagers chatted over cups of coffee, laughter drifting in waves from the tables. Molly, radiant in her red cocktail dress, moved between tables with practiced ease, placing plates of cake and mugs of coffee with a smile and a quick joke for every guest. Gavin stood behind the counter, focused and steady as he brewed a new pot of coffee, his cream colored jacket and rugged look giving him the air of a desert cowboy turned barista.

Sunny felt a surge of warmth. The valley was already beginning to feel like home. She was about to step up to the counter when something in the corner caught her eye—and her smile faltered. At a table tucked near the back, a young woman sat alone. She didn't seem interested in the sweets or the chatter around her. One leg rested on the rung of the chair, the other stretched out lazily. Her arms were crossed. Her spikey red hair was unkempt, the kind of messy that looked intentional. She wore a loose white tee, brown cargo pants, and worn-out purple high-tops. A blue plaid shirt was tied around her waist like an afterthought. Her sharp blue eyes stared out the window—narrow, distant, unreadable.

What really caught Sunny's attention, though, was the scene unfolding beside her. Rock. He was leaned halfway across the table, striking a ridiculous pose with his fingers brushing his chin like a model. "Come on, just one cup of coffee," he said, grinning. "You can even talk about whatever dark, mysterious stuff you like. I'm into that."

The young woman didn't even turn to him. She lifted her mug and took a long, slow sip, pointedly not answering. Her expression didn't change, but Sunny could see the sharp twitch in her jaw. Rock either didn't notice or didn't care.

Sunny frowned. She wasn't one to jump into other people's business… but this felt different. The girl clearly wasn't enjoying the attention, and Rock—well, he was being Rock.

She turned back toward Gavin. "Hey," she said quietly, "that girl in the corner—who is she?"

Gavin barely looked up from the espresso machine. "Newish. Name's Nami. Keeps to herself. Been staying at the inn for a week now. Good head on her shoulders, just not the talkative type."

Molly passed by, catching the last bit of the conversation. "She doesn't like crowds, but she's not unfriendly. Just… guarded. Rock's been bothering her all week."

Sunny glanced back at the table, her lips tightening like a ribbon being pulled too tight on a gift box you really shouldn't open. Nami sat there stiff as a breadstick, shoulders coiled, expression unreadable but radiating silent annoyance. That was enough. Sunny didn't think—she moved.

With the purposeful stride of a sugar-fueled hero, she marched deeper into the café. The warm scent of cinnamon rolls and fresh cream puffs swirled around her like encouragement from the pastry gods themselves. At the far corner, Rock hovered beside Nami's table like an especially persistent fruit fly who had discovered a bowl of strawberries and simply refused to leave.

Sunny stopped right beside them, planting one hand firmly on her hip. A playful spark lit her brown eyes. "Hey, Rock," she said sweetly, with the kind of tone that could rot teeth. "She's not interested. Buzz off."

Rock turned slowly, eyebrows rising, a smug grin spreading across his face like melted butter. "Well, if it isn't my favorite little rancher girl," he purred. "Done wrestling cows and crops, and now you've come looking for a real challenge? Don't worry—there's plenty of me for everyone."

Sunny stared at him for a long, silent second. Then she sighed dramatically. "Right. Guess I am going to have to teach you a lesson."

She turned to Nami. The café's gentle lighting caught on the redhead's hair like a cherry glaze on a cake. Nami blinked up, surprised, eyes widening just a fraction. "You're Nami, right?" Sunny asked, grinning. "Want to help me throw this guy out? You look strong. I could take him down myself, obviously, but why not share the fun?"

Nami's eyes flicked up, startled. She blinked once, taken aback—but there was a glint of amusement just behind that cautious stare. Like maybe, she liked the idea.

Rock threw up his hands, backing away a step. "Whoa now! Ladies! Let's not resort to… unnecessary violence. I'm a peaceful guy. A romantic. An artist of affection!"

Sunny cracked her knuckles theatrically, earning a few glances from nearby patrons, as if they were about to witness the world's most entertaining café brawl. Gavin situated behind the counter paused mid–espresso shot. "Equal rights, equal fights," Sunny said cheerfully. "C'mon, Rock, don't run now. I was just starting to enjoy myself."

Rock backed up another step, clearly trying to save face while pretending not to be terrified. Instead, he flicked his perfectly straight blonde hair and said, "Now now, let's remember—I'm a lover, not a fighter. I'll let you win this round, but my affection for both of you? Undying." He pointed at Sunny with finger guns and flashed Nami a wink. "Maybe next time we meet, we can have a little fun, yeah?" With that, Rock made a quick exit, slipping through the café door with the clink of the bell and all the grace of someone retreating from a battlefield.

The corner fell quiet again. Nami looked at Sunny, her gaze still cool, but not unfriendly. Sunny leaned on the edge of the table, grinning. "So, you always get harassed during your coffee breaks, or was I just lucky enough to catch the show?"

Nami snorted, the corner of her mouth twitching. "That's a new one."

"I'm Sunny," she said, offering her hand. "Newest ranch girl in the valley."

"Nami," the redhead replied after a moment, giving her a quick handshake—firm and brief.

Sunny then turned and pulled out the empty chair across from her and sat down. "Hope I didn't step on any toes," Sunny said, brushing dust from her jeans. "I mean, maybe you had it under control and I just barged in like a storm."

Nami looked at her for a moment, then smiled—not a wide one, but genuine, tucked in the corners of her mouth. "No, I appreciated it. He doesn't usually listen to anyone."

Sunny gave a small laugh, tapping her knuckles on the tabletop. "Guess I've got a talent for being loud in the right moments."

Before Nami could reply, Molly appeared beside the table carrying two small plates. Each held a generous slice of chocolate-vanilla marble cake, elegantly drizzled with caramel.

"Here you go, girls," Molly said, setting the plates down with a practiced flourish. "On the house."

Sunny blinked. "Wait, seriously?"

Molly winked. "Consider it a thank-you. Rock's been a thorn in our side for weeks—he's already scared off three visitors from the café last year. I don't care if he is Lou's kid; someone needs to knock him off his high horse."

Nami smirked. "She did that pretty effectively."

Molly nodded. "That she did. And thank you for not punching him in the café. The table and dishes are expensive."

She left with a warm smile and a wave, moving off to take care of the next customer. Sunny watched her go, a little stunned.

"Free cake for public service," she said, picking up her fork. "I could get used to this."

Nami took a bite of hers and nodded thoughtfully. "It's good. Gavin bakes everything fresh."

They ate in companionable silence for a few moments, the sound of quiet conversation and clinking cups filling the cozy café around them. Outside the window, the sun was just beginning to dip, casting golden light across the valley.

"So," Nami said, glancing at Sunny again. "You really the new rancher?"

"Yep," Sunny said with a full-mouth grin. She quickly swallowed. "Took over my dad's old place. Day one, and I've already got calluses and blisters."

"Welcome to valley life," Nami said. "You planning to stay?"

Sunny considered that as she twirled her fork in the remaining cake. "Yeah. I think so. Feels like the kind of place where I can build something real. What about you?"

"I'm not really from here, you know," she said, voice casual.

Sunny nodded her head. "I know. Gavin said you arrived a week ago."

"I'm a traveler. I've been to a lot of the smaller villages like this one. I move around, stay awhile, and then move on again."

"That sounds amazing," Sunny said, leaning forward, eyes bright with curiosity. "You just… go wherever the wind takes you?"

Nami chuckled softly. "Not quite that dramatic. But yeah, kind of. I like places like this. Quiet, peaceful. There's something honest about village life. Each one's got its own rhythm, its own traditions, its own way of being."

Sunny smiled, clearly intrigued. "Sounds like you've had a hundred lifetimes' worth of stories. But, um… not to sound nosy, how do you afford to travel that much? I mean, doesn't it get expensive?"

Nami reached into the satchel at her side and pulled out a compact, well-worn camera. She placed it gently on the table, the matte black casing gleaming under the café lights.

"I take photos," she said simply. "Nature, people, village life. I send them to a magazine in the city that publishes articles about rural communities. They use the photos to advertise the villages, hoping to bring in new people to live or visit."

Sunny blinked, impressed. "Wow. That's… actually really cool. So you're, like, a professional photographer?"

Nami shrugged modestly. "Freelance, really. But yeah, I guess you could say that."

"And they actually pay you for that?"

"Enough to keep traveling. Sometimes more."

Sunny looked at the camera with a newfound respect. "That's incredible. You get to see the world, help villages grow, and make a living doing something you love."

Nami nodded, slipping the camera back into her bag. "I try to keep it simple. If I stay too long in one place, I start to get restless. But Forgotten Valley… it's different. I've decided to stay here longer than anywhere else."

Sunny leaned back, resting her hands behind her head. "Well, maybe that means something. Maybe you found the right place to stick around a little longer."

Nami offered her a rare, thoughtful smile. "Maybe."

The café began to quiet down as the afternoon wore on, the golden light slanting lower across the wooden floorboards. Outside, a breeze rustled the trees.

Sunny stood from her seat and stretched, hands reaching high above her head before dropping back down with a relaxed sigh. "I should head back before Takakura thinks I've wandered off forever. Thanks for chatting, Nami. And, you know… letting me crash your table."

Nami tilted her head, her expression softening in that subtle way of hers. "Anytime," she said. Then a small, teasing smirk appeared. "And thanks for saving me from Prince Charming."

Sunny laughed warmly. "Anytime. Us girls have to stick together, right?"

"I guess so," Nami replied, almost shyly.

With a final bright smile and a little wave, Sunny headed for the door. The bell above it chimed delicately as she stepped out, leaving behind the warm hum of conversation and the faint scent of pastries. Nami watched her go, quiet for a moment, then glanced at her empty plate before turning back toward the window. Outside, the late afternoon light wrapped Sunny in soft gold as she walked down the road, her presence lingering like warmth from a freshly poured cup of tea.

Outside, Sunny stretched again, arms open to the sky as though she could hug the whole valley. The breeze brushed gently against her face, carrying the smell of sugar, flowers, and distant fields. She rolled her shoulders with a satisfied groan and smiled up at the blue slowly melting toward evening.

"I like her," she murmured to herself. "She's pretty cool."

By the time Sunny reached the ranch, the sun had begun to lower, spilling gentle colors across the land. Shadows stretched long through the fields, and the porch creaked softly as she stepped onto the worn boards. She dropped into the wooden swing beside the door, tugged off her gloves, and let the quiet sink into her bones.

She leaned back, watching as the sky softened into hues of orange and pink, the valley glowing like a dream settling in for the night. Life here was hard work, yes—but it was also full of small wonders: laughter shared with strangers, calm evenings like this, and warmth where she least expected it. She hadn't imagined she would feel this at home so soon, but the valley already felt like it was slowly, gently claiming a place in her heart.

Bootsteps approached, steady and familiar. Takakura settled beside her without ceremony, his presence grounding, as comfortable as the land itself. The scent of hay, earth, and the long day clung to him.

"You're lookin' pretty pleased with yourself," he said, voice low and fondly gruff.

Sunny smiled at the sky. "I think I made a friend today."

Takakura gave a slow nod. "That's good. Friends are like gold out here… rare, but worth a lot when you find 'em."

"She's a traveler," Sunny said, eyes still on the horizon. "Takes pictures. Said she's seen so many places, but this valley feels different somehow."

Takakura let out a thoughtful hum. "This place has a way of holdin' on to folks, when they let it."

Sunny turned slightly toward him, her voice softer. "You think I'll belong here, Uncle Taka?"

He didn't rush an answer. Instead, he looked out at the fields—quiet, shining, alive—then at Sunny, with dirt still on her cheeks, determination in her eyes, and a warmth that reminded him of someone he once knew well.

"You're Henry's girl," he said gently. "You've got his heart… but you've got your own strength too. I think you're already belongin', more than you realize."

Sunny's chest filled with quiet warmth. She rested her head lightly against the porch post, letting the moment wrap around her like a blanket. The ranch, the valley, her new friend—everything was still new, still uncertain, yet somehow already precious.

As the sun finally dipped beyond the hills, Forgotten Valley settled under a peaceful twilight, welcoming her as if it had been waiting all along. Sunny smiled into the dusk, heart steady and hopeful, ready for whatever tomorrow would bring.